


We're Here, Side By Side, I Could Swear It

by EverestV



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Basically Canon Universe, F/F, For the most part, Pre-Canon, give me all the fluffy/angsty overly affectionate Marshfield, we're still at Blackwell but before Chloe bursts in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverestV/pseuds/EverestV
Summary: prompt: slow dancing to dumb cheesy old music and kissing in a way that’s more laughter than actual kissing, mouths clumsy and hands gripping tight and sunlight slanting over them as they move lazily together





	

The sheets hold Max in a vice grip, suffocating her, it’s stuffy in her room, and she already tried opening the window. It didn’t help much. Eventually she sits up, stands, wanders over to the couch, pulls on a hoodie that attaches itself to her like a shadow, and walks out. Her eyelids hang heavy, her arms feel weighed down and limp. Her feet drag themselves down the hall before stopping in front of room 222, moving and pausing on autopilot.

Max is careful to knock a few times, letting the rhythm take the shape of a heartbeat, before stepping inside. Kate doesn't look behind her to see who it is or get up from her position at her desk, she doesn't need to. They've done this too many times for it to be anything but routine.

Max settles on Kate’s bed with a soft sigh, letting her feet hang over the edge as she stares at the ceiling. The sleeplessness they share drifts easily through the air between them, accompanied by Max’s just-audible exhales and Kate’s little humming noises.

It's undeniable that the atmosphere around them is completely different when the other is near. Kate accepts that her four walls aren’t breathing down her neck anymore, they’re not cage bars anymore, they’re not closing in to the point where she can only breathe at irregular intervals. It’s much easier to feel fine,  _ be _ fine, when Max is in the same room. And Max feels the same way when she’s with Kate. There’s just something warmer about Kate’s room than her own, something more alive, something exactly unlike a ghost, something perfectly made for dark skies and soft lights and a gentle, soothing quiet that covers and shields and envelops and knits them closer together.

Both are grateful for the company, more than they could say. So they don’t. The two don’t need words to feel comfortable with each other. Hours could pass, Max could walk over to nudge Kate toward the window because there’s the sun peeking over the horizon, and neither of them would feel tired anymore; they’d exchange gentle smiles and lingering touches like it was any other time of day. To them, it’s simple. Max depends on Kate’s stillness, Kate leans heavily on Max’s steadfastness, and as the night rolls on, the two fall into each other like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Sometimes Max brings along her guitar and plays hushed, melodic riffs until Kate’s attention can be coaxed away from her desk to her bed, and the two would sit with shoulders pressed against each others’, both watching as unhurried fingers spur steel-taut strings into audible motion. Other times, Max brings along her guitar only if Kate brings out her violin and the two find a bench under the stars and play together until their fingers are tired and satisfied and whole again. But lately, Max just puts on a playlist she’s made for Kate that’s constantly expanding, always making sure to start it from a different song: a different acoustic tone, a different violin melody, a different set of dreamy vocals.

That’s what she puts on now, scrolling through her phone before plugging into a small, personal stereo set by the bed. Max sees Kate’s shoulders relax and lower as soon as the first guitar notes strikes the air and she smiles. She remembers this one. It has a harmonica melody in it and sappy lyrics and a gentle violin accompaniment and a soothing, rhythmic guitar. Kate turns around and abandons her desk.

“This one's nice. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Max smiles, accepting the invitation of Kate’s voice. “It's an acoustic cover but I think it's way better than the original.”

“Acoustic versions usually are, in my opinion.”

“I know. That's most of what's on this mixtape. If you're anything, you're consistent.”

“You mean boring?”

“No.” Max walks over, leans forward, presses a soft kiss to Kate’s forehead. “Consistent. Expected. Believe me, that's definitely a compliment in my book.” Kate hums and Max pokes at her shoulder, throwing a glance at the book left abandoned. “So where you at? Any stopping points coming up?”

“Why, did you need something?”

“No, I just think you should take a break. Or, well, I  _ want _ you to take a break, at least. I feel like it's been a long, shitty week and I was cold all day today and...I missed you.” Max shrugs, trying to prevent herself from looking away, trying to keep herself rooted in Kate’s almost-golden gaze. “I miss you.”

It’s quiet for a moment, a gentle quiet, as that small phrase silently repeats itself in the air between them:  _ I miss you I miss you I miss you. _ Max bites at her lip but her worry doesn’t seem necessary. The song ends. Kate smiles softly. Max feels it like a feather against her skin. “Yeah. I guess I can take a break, then.”

Max reaches for Kate’s hands and tugs her upward. The two stand there for a moment, fingers intertwined, chests open and breaths caught. The next song starts—hushed, hesitant piano notes, pauses heavy and aching, mere ghostly traces of a supporting cello—and the very corner of Max’s mouth curves up. “Actually, this is perfect, this song. Kate, may I have this dance?”

Kate colors just slightly, nodding her head, letting Max pull her to the center of the room, letting Max’s hand slip away from hers and rest around her waist at the small of her back. Kate lets herself fall into Max’s lead, her free hand anchoring around Max’s back with her elbow on Max’s shoulder.

**_Mama, take this badge off of me,_ ** the voice sounds through the room with a deeply somber ring, thick and laden with emotion, ragged and on the verge of breaking, rich and pleading and beautiful.

**_I can’t use it anymore_ **

“Jeez, his  _ voice _ .” Kate whispers, not wanting to intrude on the atmosphere the singer creates with ease. “It’s...it’s something else.” Max nods her agreement, her smile blurs, her eyes blink closed. Kate starts to notice how little space is in between them and feels her chest do some start-stop-start thing she can’t understand.

**_It’s getting dark, much too dark to see you._ **

But Max is perfectly at ease. She guides the two of them in tandem with the beat of the song, swaying gently from side to side, squeezing Kate’s hand every now and then, and she’s leaning forward as if reaching toward Kate, as if wanting, as if asking.

**_I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door._ **

Kate opens up to her, gives in, feels a breath leave her in a relieved hushed release. She presses her forehead against Max’s and she’s flooded by an innate sense of  _ rightness _ , or at least belonging. It’s ridiculous, Max is just a person, just like anyone else, just like herself. It makes no sense that right now, in this moment, Kate feels...Kate finally understands when people talk about...suddenly Max feels like home.

**_Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door_ **

Kate feels like she’s being wrapped up in a heavy blanket with hot chocolate in her lap, surrounded by the soft glow of string lights and the pervading influence of a vanilla candle while strings play somewhere in the background, and there’s a softness to it, a warmth, a touch of magic that makes her feel weightless but grounded all the same.

Max just feels lost. Everything around her falls away, the music blends with the overhead light, with the rug beneath her feet, with her sense of up and down, and the only thing that’s left is the nudging presence of skin against her forehead, warmth against her hand, softness against her chest, solidity against her back. She doesn’t know how she got here, she doesn’t know where she’s supposed to go, she is being enveloped by a weight that’s growing larger around her— or maybe she’s just getting smaller. The sudden image of little Despereaux in the heart of a castle bigger than his wildest dreams, sitting on the stone floor struck with wonder and fear, comes to mind.

Before she can dwell on it too long, Max lets out a laugh that’s just barely restrained.

Kate stiffens with a jerk, her eyes fly open, she tries to pull away before Max latches on tight and pulls her close again. Kate tries to look Max in the eye but her head falls against Kate’s shoulder. “What, what’s wrong? Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, I...” Max could feel a bubbling in her chest building and eventually she gave up on holding back the giggles. “I just thought of something ridiculous, I...”

“What did you think of?”

Max glances up at Kate, eyes watery and knees shaky and trying to playing it all off as just a laughing fit. “Have you ever read that kid’s book,  _ The Tale of Despereaux _ ?” Kate shakes her head and Max’s giggles subside. “We’ll have to read it one day then.” And then Max kisses her.

It’s not like this is their first time, maybe more like their third or so, and Kate thought they had agreed on giving ample warning and permission beforehand and Kate suddenly forgets how to control her mouth with both of Max’s arms around her waist and Max’s lips are sloppy and lazy against hers and the whole thing is a kind of clumsy that Kate would back away from on instinct. But Max lets out another giggle—or at least a sound that’s similar—squeezing it into the space between their teeth, and Kate tries to loosen herself up. Max’s fingers snag at her sweater, gripping at her back to keep her in place, but Kate wouldn’t dare to try to pull away again.

Max’s head drops back onto Kate’s shoulder and her laughs seem to fade again, her shaking form stilling against Kate’s chest, the song is over and another one starts. Max starts backing up and dragging Kate along with her and the two of them tumble onto the bed in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Sorry,” Max breathes softly, hands falling away from Kate, one arm draped over her stomach and the other draped across her eyes. Kate carefully extracts herself and sits up on the edge of the bed—waiting patiently, trying to ignore the flush in her cheeks, the tendrils of hair falling into her peripheral vision. She hyper-focuses on the small tears that escape from Max’s closed eyes instead. “That was a really bad kiss. I just kept thinking about that dumb mouse. All by himself in that huge castle, no idea where to go or where to hide.”

“And that’s...funny?”

“Oh, well, not really, I guess. I don’t know. Seemed like it at the time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you think we can just start over and try again? Forget my wonderful display of being a mess of a human being?”

“I didn’t say you were one.”

“Kate,” Max phrases it like a question, soft and light, and Kate glances over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, really.”

“I know. I heard you the first time.”

“Kate,” Max repeats and tugs at her sleeve. “Come here? I’m sorry. Let’s just pretend we can rewind time, start over. Please?”

Kate eases herself onto her back next to Max, still and unto herself. Max is on her side and stares deep into the space between the two which is suddenly much more intimidating to cross than before. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

The two are quiet. Max slinks closer. “Then can I start again?” Kate doesn’t move to protest, doesn’t move to stop her, so Max settles herself on Kate’s hips and leans in low. She closes her eyes, Kate stares up at her. Max waits this time and Kate gives herself the moment to decide.

Kate closes the space between them, kisses Max with a little sigh, and it’s soft and slow and neat and everything is in its place again and Max bends her elbows to fully lay on top of Kate and the two fall into states so quiet that when they pull away from the kiss, they just come back together again with noses pressed against necks. Soon, Max is breathing too rhythmically to be awake. Kate gently rolls Max to lay fully on the mattress, nestled close against her side.

_ I miss you I miss you I miss you. _

“I miss you too, for what it’s worth. I wish you’d come back to me more often.”

The sheets hold Max in a vice grip, suffocating her, it’s stuffy in her room, and she already tried opening the window. It didn’t help much. Eventually she sits up, stands, wanders over to the couch, pulls on a hoodie that attaches itself to her like a shadow, and walks out. Her eyelids hang heavy, her arms feel weighed down and limp. Her feet drag themselves down the hall before stopping in front of room 222, moving and pausing on autopilot.

Max is careful to knock a few times, letting the rhythm take the shape of a heartbeat, before stepping inside. Kate doesn't look behind her to see who it is or get up from her position at her desk, she doesn't need to. They've done this too many times for it to be anything but routine.

Max settles on Kate’s bed with a soft sigh, letting her feet hang over the edge as she stares at the ceiling. The sleeplessness they share drifts easily through the air between them, accompanied by Max’s just-audible exhales and Kate’s little humming noises.

It's undeniable that the atmosphere around them is completely different when the other is near. Kate accepts that her four walls aren’t breathing down her neck anymore, they’re not cage bars anymore, they’re not closing in to the point where she can only breathe at irregular intervals. It’s much easier to feel fine,  _ be _ fine, when Max is in the same room. And Max feels the same way when she’s with Kate. There’s just something warmer about Kate’s room than her own, something more alive, something exactly unlike a ghost, something perfectly made for dark skies and soft lights and a gentle, soothing quiet that covers and shields and envelops and knits them closer together.

Both are grateful for the company, more than they could say. So they don’t. The two don’t need words to feel comfortable with each other. Hours could pass, Max could walk over to nudge Kate toward the window because there’s the sun peeking over the horizon, and neither of them would feel tired anymore; they’d exchange gentle smiles and lingering touches like it was any other time of day. To them, it’s simple. Max depends on Kate’s stillness, Kate leans heavily on Max’s steadfastness, and as the night rolls on, the two fall into each other like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Sometimes Max brings along her guitar and plays hushed, melodic riffs until Kate’s attention can be coaxed away from her desk to her bed, and the two would sit with shoulders pressed against each others’, both watching as unhurried fingers spur steel-taut strings into audible motion. Other times, Max brings along her guitar only if Kate brings out her violin and the two find a bench under the stars and play together until their fingers are tired and satisfied and whole again. But lately, Max just puts on a playlist she’s made for Kate that’s constantly expanding, always making sure to start it from a different song: a different acoustic tone, a different violin melody, a different set of dreamy vocals.

That’s what she puts on now, scrolling through her phone before plugging into a small, personal stereo set by the bed. Max sees Kate’s shoulders relax and lower as soon as the first guitar notes strikes the air and she smiles. She remembers this one. It has a harmonica melody in it and sappy lyrics and a gentle violin accompaniment and a soothing, rhythmic guitar. Kate turns around and abandons her desk.

“This one's nice. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Max smiles, accepting the invitation of Kate’s voice. “It's an acoustic cover but I think it's way better than the original.”

“Acoustic versions usually are, in my opinion.”

“I know. That's most of what's on this mixtape. If you're anything, you're consistent.”

“You mean boring?”

“No.” Max walks over, leans forward, presses a soft kiss to Kate’s forehead. “Consistent. Expected. Believe me, that's definitely a compliment in my book.” Kate hums and Max pokes at her shoulder, throwing a glance at the book left abandoned. “So where you at? Any stopping points coming up?”

“Why, did you need something?”

“No, I just think you should take a break. Or, well, I  _ want _ you to take a break, at least. I feel like it's been a long, shitty week and I was cold all day today and...I missed you.” Max shrugs, trying to prevent herself from looking away, trying to keep herself rooted in Kate’s almost-golden gaze. “I miss you.”

It’s quiet for a moment, a gentle quiet, as that small phrase silently repeats itself in the air between them:  _ I miss you I miss you I miss you. _ Max bites at her lip but her worry doesn’t seem necessary. The song ends. Kate smiles softly. Max feels it like a feather against her skin. “Yeah. I guess I can take a break, then.”

Max reaches for Kate’s hands and tugs her upward. The two stand there for a moment, fingers intertwined, chests open and breaths caught. The next song starts—hushed, hesitant piano notes, pauses heavy and aching, mere ghostly traces of a supporting cello—and the very corner of Max’s mouth curves up. “Actually, this is perfect, this song. Kate, may I have this dance?”

Kate colors just slightly, nodding her head, letting Max pull her to the center of the room, letting Max’s hand slip away from hers and rest around her waist at the small of her back. Kate lets herself fall into Max’s lead, her free hand anchoring around Max’s back with her elbow on Max’s shoulder.

**_Mama, take this badge off of me,_ ** the voice sounds through the room with a deeply somber ring, thick and laden with emotion, ragged and on the verge of breaking, rich and pleading and beautiful.

**_I can’t use it anymore_ **

“Jeez, his  _ voice _ .” Kate whispers, not wanting to intrude on the atmosphere the singer creates with ease. “It’s...it’s something else.” Max nods her agreement, her smile blurs, her eyes blink closed. Kate starts to notice how little space is in between them and feels her chest do some start-stop-start thing she can’t understand.

**_It’s getting dark, much too dark to see you._ **

But Max is perfectly at ease. She guides the two of them in tandem with the beat of the song, swaying gently from side to side, squeezing Kate’s hand every now and then, and she’s leaning forward as if reaching toward Kate, as if wanting, as if asking.

**_I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door._ **

Kate opens up to her, gives in, feels a breath leave her in a relieved hushed release. She presses her forehead against Max’s and she’s flooded by an innate sense of  _ rightness _ , or at least belonging. It’s ridiculous, Max is just a person, just like anyone else, just like herself. It makes no sense that right now, in this moment, Kate feels...Kate finally understands when people talk about...suddenly Max feels like home.

**_Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door_ **

Kate feels like she’s being wrapped up in a heavy blanket with hot chocolate in her lap, surrounded by the soft glow of string lights and the pervading influence of a vanilla candle while strings play somewhere in the background, and there’s a softness to it, a warmth, a touch of magic that makes her feel weightless but grounded all the same.

Max just feels lost. Everything around her falls away, the music blends with the overhead light, with the rug beneath her feet, with her sense of up and down, and the only thing that’s left is the nudging presence of skin against her forehead, warmth against her hand, softness against her chest, solidity against her back. She doesn’t know how she got here, she doesn’t know where she’s supposed to go, she is being enveloped by a weight that’s growing larger around her— or maybe she’s just getting smaller. The sudden image of little Despereaux in the heart of a castle bigger than his wildest dreams, sitting on the stone floor struck with wonder and fear, comes to mind.

Before she can dwell on it too long, Max lets out a laugh that’s just barely restrained.

Kate stiffens with a jerk, her eyes fly open, she tries to pull away before Max latches on tight and pulls her close again. Kate tries to look Max in the eye but her head falls against Kate’s shoulder. “What, what’s wrong? Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, I...” Max could feel a bubbling in her chest building and eventually she gave up on holding back the giggles. “I just thought of something ridiculous, I...”

“What did you think of?”

Max glances up at Kate, eyes watery and knees shaky and trying to playing it all off as just a laughing fit. “Have you ever read that kid’s book,  _ The Tale of Despereaux _ ?” Kate shakes her head and Max’s giggles subside. “We’ll have to read it one day then.” And then Max kisses her.

It’s not like this is their first time, maybe more like their third or so, and Kate thought they had agreed on giving ample warning and permission beforehand and Kate suddenly forgets how to control her mouth with both of Max’s arms around her waist and Max’s lips are sloppy and lazy against hers and the whole thing is a kind of clumsy that Kate would back away from on instinct. But Max lets out another giggle—or at least a sound that’s similar—squeezing it into the space between their teeth, and Kate tries to loosen herself up. Max’s fingers snag at her sweater, gripping at her back to keep her in place, but Kate wouldn’t dare to try to pull away again.

Max’s head drops back onto Kate’s shoulder and her laughs seem to fade again, her shaking form stilling against Kate’s chest, the song is over and another one starts. Max starts backing up and dragging Kate along with her and the two of them tumble onto the bed in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Sorry,” Max breathes softly, hands falling away from Kate, one arm draped over her stomach and the other draped across her eyes. Kate carefully extracts herself and sits up on the edge of the bed—waiting patiently, trying to ignore the flush in her cheeks, the tendrils of hair falling into her peripheral vision. She hyper-focuses on the small tears that escape from Max’s closed eyes instead. “That was a really bad kiss. I just kept thinking about that dumb mouse. All by himself in that huge castle, no idea where to go or where to hide.”

“And that’s...funny?”

“Oh, well, not really, I guess. I don’t know. Seemed like it at the time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you think we can just start over and try again? Forget my wonderful display of being a mess of a human being?”

“I didn’t say you were one.”

“Kate,” Max phrases it like a question, soft and light, and Kate glances over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, really.”

“I know. I heard you the first time.”

“Kate,” Max repeats and tugs at her sleeve. “Come here? I’m sorry. Let’s just pretend we can rewind time, start over. Please?”

Kate eases herself onto her back next to Max, still and unto herself. Max is on her side and stares deep into the space between the two which is suddenly much more intimidating to cross than before. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

The two are quiet. Max slinks closer. “Then can I start again?” Kate doesn’t move to protest, doesn’t move to stop her, so Max settles herself on Kate’s hips and leans in low. She closes her eyes, Kate stares up at her. Max waits this time and Kate gives herself the moment to decide.

Kate closes the space between them, kisses Max with a little sigh, and it’s soft and slow and neat and everything is in its place again and Max bends her elbows to fully lay on top of Kate and the two fall into states so quiet that when they pull away from the kiss, they just come back together again with noses pressed against necks. Soon, Max is breathing too rhythmically to be awake. Kate gently rolls Max to lay fully on the mattress, nestled close against her side.

_ I miss you I miss you I miss you. _

“I miss you too, for what it’s worth. I wish you’d come back to me more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the version I used: https://youtu.be/T9plWZGMVr0


End file.
